Time stretched before me like an endless hallway, each tick of the grandfather clock in the foyer echoing through the house like a death knell.
I’d been waiting for Sean. I waited, and then I waited some more, the minutes bleeding into each other.
Conversation with my mother and her friends wasn’t exactly my forte. Their discussions about bridge scores and the latest gossip from the country club didn’t interest me, but I was tempted to chat anyway. Boredom had gotten the better of me. When Sean said a few hours, I figured he’d meant two, not four ...
Suddenly, I heard the familiar sound of the patio door creaking open. I peered up. It wasn’t Sean.
Disappointment washed over me.
It was Max.
He stood upside down in the doorway, taking a few strides toward me as he put his hands in the pockets of his impeccably tailoredArmanisuit.
Broad shoulders, check. Muscular legs, check.
“Rosalie,” he greeted, his flat delivery lacking its usual effect. “The car is ready to go whenever you are.”
Not this again.
I turned upright, fixing the dress—which had ridden up my thighs—and whirled back, stammering, “Oh, no, no, that’s all right. Sean is driving me home. I’ve been waiting for him.”
“He’s going to be a while.”
I guess we were doing this again.
“I thought you needed some time off.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
A ghost of a smile returned to his lips. “Keeping tabs on me?”
My cheeks burned. “No,” I lied.
“Hmm.” The amusement was clear in his brown eyes. “Sounds like it.”
“Sean happened to tell me,” I admitted, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“Sean, huh?”
“Yep. Speaking of him, I should go have a chat with him.”
“Or,” he offered, “you could come with me and save him a headache.”
“You—”
He cut me off. “Let’s go, Rosalie.” His tone left no room for argument. “I don’t have all day like you.”
Impatiently, Max left through the front door, leaving it gaping open. Clearly, another talk with Sean was going to happen. It seemed he didn’t understand my frustration.
Sighing, I hurried after Max. His car, a sleek black Maserati, shined under the dim glow of the streetlights. This was thesecond expensive sports car I’d seen him in. I guess he was a car guy.Strange hobby for a mobster.
Taking a deep breath, I approached the passenger side. Max opened the door for me. Taking a step closer, I looked up at him, and his eyes drilled into mine before I lowered myself onto the leather seat. The inside of his car smelled like him—expensive.
Folding my hands in my lap, I waited for Max to get into the car. Once he did, he took out his keys and turned them in the ignition. The engine roared to life. We pulled out of the driveway, the silence already pressing down like it did before.
About five minutes into the drive, I turned to face him and said, “You know, we could try out those icebreakers again.”
He stretched his legs, his right arm falling onto the center console. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
“You think so?” I asked, hopeful.
